


All Seeing

by Catzgirl



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Solas Smut Saturday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 13:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9327842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catzgirl/pseuds/Catzgirl
Summary: A self-indulgent moment between Inanen'fen Lavellan and Solas reveals more than either had expected or hoped.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Importing from Tumblr. Will be part of a series once I get all the chapters finagled.

He said it between pants. She wasn’t sure if that cheapened it or not, but that’s how it happened: they were wound together in her bed, slick with sweat, the sheets half tangled around them, half draped over the floor, and he was panting hard from the exertion with her shoulder blade between his teeth when he breathed, “Ma… Ma _vehnan_ ,” and angled himself just so…

It was purely reflexive of course, but a long moan ripped out of her and every one of her muscles clenched around him, sending them both over the edge. His jawbone necklace was like ice against her breasts but there was nothing for it but to grip him tighter, hold him closer through the storm of her climax. Coming with Solas was like that: a storm. She was never sure if it would soothe or wreck her, but she was happy to delve into the midst and find out. Then came a long moment in the aftermath, both of them panting and sweat sticky, and _otherwise_ sticky, where he went soft and slipped out of her, and she began to wonder if she’d even heard him correctly.

Then he lifted his head and met her eyes, and as good as told her with the fear in his that he hadn't meant to say it, or rather that he hadn’t meant to say it outloud. Inanen liked to think of herself as a practical woman, one that could judge a man’s character as easily as she could skin a deer, and she saw that this was not a battle-fear or even a fear of loss. This was something different. He knew how she felt. She’d made no secret of it. He was surprised that he felt it, too, and something else, something worse. What was it?

Her chest was still heaving, but she rolled over and on top of him in a way that would usually have drawn a smiled to his face. It certainly drew a response from his body. But he knew she’d read his eyes, so he gazed up at her calmly and waited for her to ask.

His cock was not as patient: Hard and hot and twitching against her thigh. It amazed her, she thought as she trailed a hand from his bald head to the tips of an ear and down his face, how he never seemed entirely spent. She was still wet with and for him, and it was nothing but a roll of the hips to have him inside her. He moaned under her and she thrilled to hear it, still could not believe how finely they could play each others bodies, each others hearts.

She was a practical woman. He’d called her “vehnan.” It was not the sort of thing said out of turn. They’d had a comfortableness between them, of sex and companionship, that she’d been more than content with, but this? This was not what she had expected from Solas, who stayed so distant from all of them in every way but this.

There. Right there.

“You won’t stay,” she said, hips rolling, riding him through this new hurricane she was building. Electricity courses through her veins and more than one lover has compared her to the lightning she so casually commands in battle. It’s this same exacting ferocity that burns through her now, and she isn’t gentle with his cock or his feelings as she asks, “You won’t stay, when it’s over. If we live long enough to see it through.”

It isn’t exactly what one would call “proper” bedtalk, but very little about her is proper.

His eyes are lidded, with pleasure maybe or with the truth of it and he responds, “I will fight by your side for as long as there is a threat in this world.”

It isn’t a reassurance. Her hands trail down his lean shoulders and his tightly muscled arms to his wrists, and she entwines her fingers with his. He has the fingers of a spellcaster, long and thin for turning book pages and flirting with fire- or frost, as the case may be. She raises his arms above his head and leans forward, her pelvis grinding into his. His hips jut upwards to meet her and she revels, again, in how well they do this thing together. There were men before him, trifles really, but Solas fucks her as though it will be his salvation. Their chest come flush together as she abandons any attempt at rhythm, just more, more of him, and there's a flash of cold, that damn talisman around his neck, and it brings her back to herself just in time.

Maybe he’s more spent than she thought, because he lets out a low, unfamiliar groan as her lips catch his ear lobe.  
“I am the eyes of the wolf,” she whispers to him, voice raw and wrecked, and suddenly his cock is so hard in her she’s sure he’s going to bore straight through, “And there is no where you could go that I wouldn’t find you. _Vehnan_.”

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me on tumblr at fenesvir.tumblr.com


End file.
